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“Momma?”
The raspy voice of your son, although barely more than a whisper, pulls you out of a deep sleep and when you open your eyes and turn onto your side you see him standing in the doorway, the faint glow of the motion-activated light in the hall not quite reaching all the way into your bedroom. A quick glance at your alarm clock tells you it’s almost three in the morning and not nearly close to when he usually gets up, which isn’t for another four hours or so.
Even after your eyes have gotten a little more used to the darkness you still can’t make out his features and so you reach for the switch of the nightlight on your side of the bed, your eyebrows knitting together and something tugging on your heart when you see how distraught he looks once the light comes on. His hair, the dark brown curly mop unruly enough on a good day, is sticking up in every direction, his pyjama pants are twisted, he's cradling his stuffed Flounder close to his chest, and from the way his bottom lip is sticking out you can tell he's close to tears.
“You ok, bud?” you ask quietly.
Callum shakes his head and his bottom lip starts to tremble and so you are out of bed and scooping him into your arms in a matter of seconds. He's crying then, big ugly sobs that tell you whatever it was it must have been really bad.
You hug him closer as you stand up, silently making your way back to the bed, and when you sit down on the edge he nestles into your lap, his head tucked away safely under your chin. He’s still crying but less so than before and after you kiss the top of his head, his curls tickling your cheeks, you let your head rest on top of his and take a few deep breaths, hoping he’ll follow your lead.
There's movement behind you but you’re not really paying it any mind, too focused on the little man sitting in your lap instead. Your husband’s fingers flutter against the skin of your lower back then, his way of letting you know he's there without interrupting the moment, and this seemingly unimportant gesture means more to you than he’ll ever know.
Shifting your attention back to your son you press another kiss to his head, "Another nightmare, baby?"
He nods, “The bad guys- The bad guys came to our house Momma and-" he hiccups, trying to catch his breath. "And they took Nemo and-”
The tears are back then and so you hold him closer, your arms wrapping around him as you gently rock side to side, “Ssh, it's ok, Cal." You wait until he nods before you continue "It was a bad dream, baby. Those happen sometimes. But I promise Nemo is still here because-" You risk a glance over your shoulder before you tell him, “Daddy would never let anything happen to Nemo, ok?"
There's a groan and a quiet, "That turtle is going to be the death of me someday,” coming from Daniel's side of the bed in reply. You don’t think Callum has heard him though and so you quietly chuckle at your husband’s dramatics.
You ignore Daniel and instead nudge Callum’s shoulder, "Remember when we got Nemo?"
He nods, "Daddy didn't want us to, right?"
"Nope," you reply, popping the 'p', "Daddy thought we were just getting a goldfish, remember?"
Callum looks up at you, his eyes still a little glossed over but not really crying anymore, "Because we called him 'Nemo', right?"
"Yes, bud,” you agree easily enough. “Because you were clever enough to call him Nemo so we could tell Daddy we got a "Nemo" instead of telling him that what we really got was a turtle." Daniel pinches your side in retaliation and when you look at him from over your shoulder you see that despite the fact he has his eyes closed, laying on his back, one arm folded under his head, the other stretched out so his fingers can keep caressing the exposed skin of your back, there’s a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.
"Yeah," your son quietly agrees, a ragged breath escaping him as he slowly, slowly starts to calm down.
"Do you remember what Daddy said when he saw Nemo?"
"That's a weird looking goldfish you got there, buddy," your son says, mimicking Dan's tone of voice almost perfectly and you can't help but let out a laugh, Daniel pinching your side yet again even though you can hear him snicker behind you.
You kiss the top of Callum’s head before you run a hand through your son's curls, "And what did you say?"
“Yes, it is,” your son looks up at you with a grin as he recites his own words, “but we’re keeping him, Daddy."
"Exactly," you reply with a nod. You knew coming home with a turtle instead of the goldfish you’d promised Dan you’d get was a risky move but you also knew he’d never be able to say ‘no’ to Callum, even more so after your son held his ground and basically told Dan the turtle was staying, whether he agreed or not. You loosen your hold on Callum then and cup his face, running your thumbs over his cheeks to wipe away what's left of his tears. "That was a good day, huh?"
Your son nods but before you can say anything else he's pushed himself out of your lap and onto the bed, crawling over to Dan's side where he snuggles up to his Dad. You meet Daniel's eyes and you throw him a wink before you slide back into bed.
“Daddy?”
A quiet “Hmhm,” comes as a response as Daniel wraps his arm around his son.
“You’ll protect Nemo, right?” he looks up at Daniel expectantly and so do you, your eyebrows raised to add even more pressure.
Daniel nods and kisses the top of Callum’s head, “You bet, buddy. Nothing will ever happen to Nemo.” He looks up at you then and throws you a wink to let you know he’s serious, “Promise.”
“You’re like a super hero, daddy,” a content sigh leaves Callum's lips and you can see his eyes are starting to droop, a yawn escaping him as he clutches Flounder closer to his chest.
Dan chuckles, “Good enough for me, kiddo.”
You scoot closer to both your men and press a kiss to the back of your son’s head before you reach behind you and turn the light back off.
"Momma and Daddy are right here, buddy," you hear Daniel whisper. "Try to get some sleep, ok? We love you."
You stroke your son's hair and start reciting his favourite nursery rhyme, the one you've put him to bed with for almost five years now,
“Kookaburra sits on the old gum tree,
Merry merry king of the bush is he.
Laugh, Kookaburra, laugh, Kookaburra,
Gay your life must be!
Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Eating all the gumdrops he can see
Stop, Kookaburra, Stop, Kookaburra
Leave some there for me.
Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree,
Counting all the monkeys he can see
Stop, Kookaburra, Stop, Kookaburra,
That's no monkey, that's me.”
Your voice is barely above a whisper when you reach the end, Callum's quiet snores now filling the room. Reaching over your son's head you put your hand on Daniel's cheek, "Who knew? Super hero Dad and turtle protector? You are a man of many talents, Mr Ricciardo.”
"At your service," he chuckles quietly as he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the inside of your palm. "And?"
You feign innocence, as if this has not been your spiel for the past twenty-plus years, "And?"
"You love me for it," he replies solemnly but you can feel his grin where his lips are still ghosting over your skin.
Your eyes are getting heavy and so you let out a content sigh, "That I do."
"That you do," he echoes, intertwining his fingers with yours then and letting them come to rest on his stomach.
"Always," you whisper back, feeling yourself starting to drift off to sleep again.